Fluff & Stuff

Thę Brøkėn Māchïnê

(A/N: Trigger Warning: Suicidal thoughts/Suicide)

John and Mary, husband and wife. Both lived together happily under a same roof, helping each other out in a my way possible. Greg and Molly had gone on a few dates, both taking the opportunity now that Greg had divorced from his wife. Anderson and Donovan were still dating secretly, only everyone knew so it wasn't so secret anymore. Relatively, everyone was happy.

Or so everyone recalled.

Sherlock had never been one of going out much, considering she's a sociopath and all. She only went out if needed, to solve cases and such. Due to being a sociopath, very few people knew of her personal life and those who knew simply brushed it off or secretly worried. Out of all her friends, John cared the most.

John knocked on the door to Sherlock's flat, waiting for a distant shout or the door to open. He heard objects collide with the ground and break, followed by a trail of curses. John raised his eyebrow and moved his hand to the knob but before he could touch it, the door swung open, revealing a frowning Sherlock. She was wearing safety goggles and a white apron, both of the items dirtied with differently colored chemicals.

"Hello, John." Sherlock greeted, turning on her heel and heading to the kitchen. John entered and closed the door behind him, following Sherlock.

When John stood at the kitchen, he gasped as he acknowledged the broken chards of glass on the floor and a blue liquid spilled on the floor. "My God, what happened?"

"I was just trying to place this tube of boron next to the magnesium chloride, but someone made me loose focus." Sherlock shot a pointed look at John and he raised his hands in surrender.

"My bad."

Sherlock rolled her eyes and opened the fridge, grabbing a tube that contained white liquid and carefully pacing it next to the purple one. John silently watched as Sherlock grabbed the black liquid and spilled a few drops into the white one and it switched to blue, exactly like the one that was on the floor. When she finished mixing, John took the opportunity to speak.

"Sherlock?" She hummed in response, watching the blue tube closely. "You do realize Mrs. Hudson is in the hospital, right?"

"Yes, I am aware." Sherlock answered distractedly. John held back the urge to stomp his foot furiously against the floor as he stared at his former flat mate.

"Aren't you going to go see her?" John asked.

Sherlock bit the inside of her cheek in concentration. "This case is important, John. A few more experiments and I just might crack it. I need to know what Ronson used to kill the victims."

"Are you saying that Mrs. Hudson is not important?!" John yelled, Sherlock not even flinching back at the rage the small man contained. "How could you be so inconsiderate?!"

"She's my landlady, not my mother." Sherlock said in a bored tone, turning to John with a tube full of bright green liquid before walking to the sink.

John growled almost animalistic as he stepped balled his hands into fists and glared at the back of her head. "She cares about you! You-" John stopped, taking a breath. "You machine!"

Sherlock froze completely, her eyes widening and welling up with tears she willed herself to blink back. She dunked the chemical down the sink, closing her eyes to regain her composure.

"Get out." Sherlock whispered. John's anger increased at the calmness in her voice. When she heard he was about to argue, she forced a yell. "GET OUT!"

John leaned back slightly in surprise, but willingly left out the door, slamming the door behind him loudly. Sherlock placed her hands on either side of the sink, leaning on the counter as she let out a choked sob.

She believed every word John said, feeling unworthy of having friends or a life. She felt worthless. The only person who would tell her otherwise now stabbing her in the back with harsh but true words. She had been called worse, but coming from John had really topped it all.

She wanted to end it. She wanted to end the pain and loneliness her existence consisted of. She wanted to not feel anything. She wanted peace.

Sherlock tiredly opened her eyes and turned around to gingerly grab the black liquid from the kitchen counter, tears streaming down her face as John's words repeated in her head.

You Machine!

Sherlock clenched her eyes closed before she pulled her head back and gulped down the entire tube.

John had went to the hospital in a huff, walking into his former landlady's room.

"John, what's wrong, dear?" Mrs. Hudson instantly noticed, Mary turning in her chair next to the old woman to look at John.

"Argument with Sherlock." John explained with a sigh, running his hand through his hair.

"John," Mrs. Hudson started with slight panic. "What did you say?" Mary turned to him as well, fear in her eyes.

"I told her I was going to visit you and she didn't want to come with me." John angrily supplied, looking across the room to the wall. "She was very inconsiderate."

"John, are you crazy?!" Mary yelped out, a worried look spreading across both the women's faces.

"I don't understand." John said, getting worried himself to see such worry come from his wife and his former landlady.

"When I fell down the stairs, I was on my way to the pharmacy to buy anti-depressants. She quit smoking already, John. But the pills she takes to stop herself from smoking cause depression along with other side effects." Mrs. Hudson explained, John face twisting into one of realization.

John ran out of the hospital in a flash, not stopping to get any cabs. His heart pounding in his ears, he crossed the street a few times hurriedly, narrowly missing a few passing cars. He heard horns honking distantly, even thought the cars were almost behind him. Wasting no time to knock, he barged in though the door and ran into the living room, looking for Sherlock.

"SHERLOCK?!" John called out, looking through the living room before going to the kitchen. His heart dropped to his stomach as he saw Sherlock on the floor, unmoving and her head lolled to the side. He hurried to her side, shakily reaching out for her wrist to take a pulse. He shook his head in disbelief and held two fingers to her pale neck, hoping for the best.

"No! No! NO!" John refused to believe. He began to give her CPR, not giving up on her that easily. He tried a few times, but his attempts were futile. He stopped after his tenth try, finally letting it all sink in. He held Sherlock's body close to himself, his loud pained screams turning into muffled sobs.

"This can't be happening. This is all just a dream." But John knew it wasn't a dream, the cruel world finally reaching out to fill John's life with misery. "This is all my fault." John whispered with sorrow, gently running his hand through Sherlock's hair.

"I'm so sorry, Sherlock." John whispered shakily. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the tube lying next to Sherlock's hand. He picked it up, looking at the label closely.

(Poison)

He placed Sherlock's body gently on the floor, desperately looking for the same substance around the kitchen. He found multiple tubes in the fridge, one of them standing out from the rest. He grabbed it and walked over to Sherlock, kneeling down and cradling her head in his lap. He ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair, pushing it away from her face.

"I love you." John whispered brokenly, silently wishing he would receive a response, placing a final kiss to her cold lips.

With a final movement, John pulled his head back and downed the tube completely.